I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.

I can't believe that I changed so little. I expected to look old and hollow and gray, but I guess it's only me on the inside that has shriveled and deteriorated.

I pretend I've got lots of confidence and I'm a big jock and like that but deep inside I'm a frightened, insecure, can't-make-it failure.

How is it possible for me to be so miserable and embarrassed and humiliated and beaten an function still talk and smile and concentrate?

I’ve got to sleep. Sleep is my only way to escape.

Nobody's talking to me, but nobody's hassling me either. I guess you can't have everything.

Why is life so difficult? Why can't we be just ourselves and have everyone accept us the way we are?